“Full of idiosyncratic, almost suicidal directorial choices, yet weirdly this film cuts to the heart of its country.”

—The Guardian

Deep in the bowels of a seedy, decaying St. Petersburg, Ivan
(Skryabin), a Siberian Yakut and Afghan war veteran, patiently
tends to his fiery furnace, quietly looking the other way while
local mobsters deliver fresh corpses for incineration. Balabanov’s
blackest of black comedies—shot in defiantly grubby video, teeming
with blunt nudity and violence, and set to an ironically breezy
bossa nova soundtrack—forges a distinct blend of the sneeringly
nihilistic and unsettlingly hilarious.